Jennifer’s parents caught her off guard during a family dinner by unexpectedly asking her to cover the cost of her meal, while they paid for everyone else. Jennifer’s resentment brews as the sting of unfairness deepens, setting the stage for a confrontation the family won’t forget.
The night I got the text from Mom about a “special family dinner,” I nearly choked on my microwaved ramen. It had been ages since we’d all gotten together, and even longer since it felt like my parents actually wanted me there.
love my family, but being the middle child is like being the bologna in a sandwich where everyone’s fighting over the bread.
I stared at my phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of me wanted to make up some lame excuse, but then I thought about Tina and Cameron, my perfect older sister and my can-do-no-wrong little brother.
They’d be there, basking in Mom and Dad’s approval, like always. And I’d remain the perpetual afterthought if I didn’t show up.
“Count me in,” I typed, hitting send before I could change my mind.
Mom replied instantly. “Great! Le Petit Château, 7 p.m. next Friday. Don’t be late!”
Le Petit Château. Fancy. I whistled low, already mentally tallying up my savings. This wasn’t going to be cheap, but hey, maybe it was a sign things were changing. Maybe they actually wanted to spend time with me, Jennifer the Forgettable.
That Friday, I arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early, feeling nervous. Just as I was about to go in, Mom and Dad showed up. Mom was all smiles, while Dad wore his usual concerned expression.
Inside, we found a cozy table, and soon after, Tina and Robert joined us. Tina looked stunning, as always, making me feel like a potato by comparison. Finally, Cameron arrived, late as usual, and complaining about traffic.
Now we were all settled, Mom wasted no time in making me feel insignificant.
“So, Jennifer,” Mom said, peering at me over her menu, “how’s work going? Still at that little marketing firm?”
I nodded, trying not to bristle at the ‘little’ part. “Yeah, it’s good. We just landed a pretty big client, actually. I’m heading up the campaign.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Mom said, her attention already drifting back to Tina, who was regaling Dad with tales of her son’s latest soccer game.
That stung, but the atmosphere improved while we ate. The food was great, and soon we were talking and laughing like we used to when I was a kid.
I was enjoying the meal and the rare feeling of being part of the family, but then the check came.
Dad reached for it and started going over the bill, like he always did. But then he frowned, looking directly at me.
“Jennifer,” he said, his voice oddly formal, “you’ll be covering your portion tonight.”
I blinked, sure I’d heard him wrong. “What?”
“You’re an adult now,” he continued, as if explaining something to a child. “It’s time you start paying your own way.”
“But…” I started, my voice small, “I thought this was a family dinner. You’re paying for everyone else.”
Dad’s frown deepened. “Your sister and brother have families to support. You’re single, so it’s only fair.”
Fair. The word echoed in my head, mocking me. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. Without a word, I pulled out my credit card and handed it to the waiter, praying it wouldn’t get declined.
The rest of the night was a blur. As I drove home, the hurt began to curdle into something else. Something harder, angrier.
The next morning, I woke up with a headache and a heart full of resentment. I spent the day alternating between moping on the couch and pacing my apartment like a caged animal. By evening, something inside me had shifted.
I wasn’t just going to let this go. Not this time.
An idea started to form. Crazy at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I was going to give them a taste of their own medicine.
I invited Mom and Dad over for dinner and then spent days perfecting the menu. I cleaned my apartment until it sparkled, bought fancy candles, and even splurged on a tablecloth that didn’t come from the dollar store.
The night of the dinner arrived, and I was eerily calm. I had a plan, and I was sticking to it.
The doorbell rang at 7 p.m. sharp. I took a deep breath and opened the door with a smile plastered on my face.
“Mom, Dad! Come in!”
Dad handed me a bottle of wine. “Place looks nice, Jennifer.”
“Thanks,” I said, ushering them to the living room. “Dinner’s almost ready. Can I get you something to drink?”
As I poured their wine, Mom settled onto the couch, her eyes roaming over my bookshelf. “So, how have you been, dear? We haven’t heard much from you since… well, since our last dinner.”
I forced a light laugh. “Oh, you know how it is. Work’s been crazy busy.”
We made small talk for a while, the conversation stilted and full of long pauses. Finally, the oven timer beeped, saving us all.
“Dinner’s ready!” I announced, perhaps a bit too cheerfully.
I’d outdone myself with the meal: herb-crusted salmon, roasted vegetables, and a quinoa salad that had taken forever to get right. Mom and Dad made appropriate noises of appreciation as they ate.
“This is delicious, Jennifer,” Mom said, sounding genuinely impressed. “I didn’t know you could cook like this.”
I shrugged, tamping down the flare of resentment at her surprise. “I’ve picked up a few things over the years.”
The dinner progressed smoothly, almost pleasantly. I almost forgot why I’d invited them over in the first place. Then Dad started with one of his lectures about financial responsibility, and I knew it was time.
As I cleared the plates and brought out a fancy tiramisu for dessert, I steeled myself. This was it.
“So,” I said casually, setting down the dessert plates, “I hope you enjoyed the meal.”
They both nodded, smiling. “It was wonderful, dear,” Mom said.
I smiled back, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Great. That’ll be $47.50 each, please.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Mom’s fork clattered against her plate, and Dad’s face went through a rapid series of emotions – confusion, disbelief, and then anger.
“I’m sorry, what?” he sputtered.
I kept my voice calm, channeling Dad’s tone from that night at the restaurant. “Well, you’re both adults. It’s time you started paying your own way.”
Mom’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “But… but this is your home. You invited us.”
“Yes,” I said, my voice hardening slightly. “Just like you invited me to Le Petit Château. And then made me pay for my meal while covering everyone else’s.”
Understanding dawned on their faces, quickly followed by shame.
“Jennifer,” Dad started, his voice gruff. “That’s not… we didn’t mean…”
“Didn’t mean what?” I interrupted, years of pent-up frustration finally boiling over.
“Didn’t mean to make me feel like I’m worth less than Tina or Cameron? Didn’t mean to constantly overlook me? Or did you just not mean to get called out on it?”
Mom reached out, trying to take my hand, but I pulled away. “Sweetie, we had no idea you felt this way.”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Of course you didn’t. Do you have any idea what it’s like to always be the afterthought in your own family?”
Dad shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“We love you just as much as your siblings, Jennifer.”
“Do you?” I challenged. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’m just as successful as Tina, just as hardworking as Cameron. But somehow, I’m always the one who’s expected to ‘act like an adult’ while they get a free pass.”
The room fell silent again, but this time it was heavy with unspoken words and long-ignored feelings.
Finally, Dad cleared his throat. “We… we owe you an apology, Jennifer. A big one.”
Mom nodded, tears in her eyes. “We never meant to make you feel less valued. You’re our daughter, and we love you so much. We’ve just… we’ve done a terrible job of showing it.”
I felt my own eyes welling up, but I blinked back the tears. “I don’t want your apologies. I want you to do better. To be better. To see me.”
Dad stood up, his movements stiff. For a moment, I thought he was going to leave.
Instead, he walked around the table and hugged me. It was awkward and a little too tight, but it was more genuine than any interaction we’d had in years.
“We see you, Jennifer,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “And we’re so, so proud of you. We’ve been blind and stupid, and we’ve taken you for granted. But that ends now.”
Mom joined the hug, and for a minute, we just stood there, a tangle of arms and unshed tears and long-overdue honesty.
When we finally broke apart, Mom wiped her eyes and gave a watery chuckle. “So, about that bill…”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Tell you what. This one’s on the house. But next time we go out? We’re splitting the check evenly. All of us.”
Dad nodded solemnly. “Deal.”
As they left that night, things weren’t magically fixed. Years of feeling overlooked and undervalued don’t disappear in one conversation. But it was a start. A crack in the wall I’d built around myself, letting in a glimmer of hope.
Little Orphan Prays in Church for Mom to Come for Him, ‘I’ll Take You,’ He Hears One Day – Story of the Day
A little orphaned boy cries in church, begging God to send his mother to take him. The next minute, he turns pale when a voice answers from behind, saying, “I’ll take you.”
A string of untold emotions is attached to kids abandoned by their parents. Six-year-old Alan was one such neglected child who yearned to see his mother but never got that chance.
One day, in a serendipitous encounter in church, little Alan’s world shifted. He was crying, begging God to send his mom to him, telling God how different his world would be if his mother were with him.
Amid his loud cries and heartwarming argument with God, a strange voice spoke up from behind, offering to take him…
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“Dear Jesus, they say you hear everything. My guardians in the foster home told me to knock on your door and ask for everything I needed. I want my mommy. Can you please send her to me?”
“Alan, my boy! I’ve come for you. I’ve come to take you home.”
Alan cried as he folded his hands in prayer and stared at the crucifix. His eyes were painfully red, and his soft, pink cheeks were wet.
“My nanny told me you answer everyone’s prayers. Then why aren’t answering mine?”
The vestibule echoed with Alan’s loud cries. He was heartbroken. He did not want to return to the shelter, where kids often poked fun at him. They constantly taunted him saying his mom would never return and he had no choice but to wait for someone to adopt him.
“Nobody would be interested in taking a crybaby like you home,” were some of the harshest things he heard from fellow kids in the shelter. Alan cried his heart out that day, demanding God for an answer.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“Alan, shhh!” his guardian, Nancy, interrupted. “It’s a church. Be quiet, and don’t cry. People are watching you. Please calm down.”
Alan tried to control his tears. He kept staring at the crucifix until he saw a woman with a child enter the church. He could no longer hold back his tears and started crying again.
“Jesus, you’re not answering me. Please, I want to be with my mommy like that girl. Nanny, why is Jesus not answering? You told me he answered all our prayers, but why hasn’t he told me anything?”
Nancy stared at the boy and grinned at his innocent questions.
“I’ll take you,” a woman’s voice suddenly said from behind them. “My baby, I’ve come for you. Please stop crying.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Alan and Nancy were startled. They turned around, and behind them was the woman with the child Alan had seen moments ago.
“Alan, my boy! I’ve come for you. I’ve come to take you home,” she cried.
“Who are you? How do you know the kid’s name?” questioned Nancy, holding Alan tight.
“My name is Annette. I’m Alan’s mother. I come here daily to see him and ensure he’s fine.”
“Your son? Do you have any proof?”
Annette took out a photo of her holding a newborn baby in her arms. “I left him at the shelter’s doorstep six years ago.”
“This is unbelievable. This was how Alan looked when I first picked him up from the doorstep on that rainy night. I heard the loud cries of a baby outside on the patio and found him there. Why did you leave your baby? How can you be such a heartless mother?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Annette began to cry and disclosed the most saddening story of her life.
Six years ago, she was 16 and accidentally fell pregnant with her boyfriend’s child. After she revealed this to him, he dumped her and moved to another state, blocking her from contact. Annette’s parents advised her to terminate the pregnancy, but she couldn’t do it.
“My parents gave me only one choice—to abandon my baby or to forget them and the legacy I would inherit. I was too naive and young to become a mother, so I left my newborn baby at the shelter and moved on.”
Annette added that she finished college and married another man. The girl with her, Amy, was her daughter from this marriage.
“I tried my best, but I could not forget my son. I visit this church often to watch him from a distance. But after hearing him crying for his mother today, I could not hold back any longer. I want to take him home with me.”
Soon, Annette began the legal formalities to gain Alan’s custody back. She took DNA tests with him, revealing they were mother and son by a 99 percent match. Although she successfully took Alan home and restored their relationship, it came with a hefty price.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Annette’s parents turned against her and cut her off from their lives and their will. Even worse, her husband turned against her despite knowing the truth about her shady past.
“I married you because you were honest about your failed relationship with your ex-boyfriend and thought you would never want that kid again. But now, even your parents have disowned you. Look, I’m not willing to father someone else’s child. I’m ready to support my daughter financially, but our marriage is over,” her husband Jason said, immediately filing for a divorce.
Annette and Jason were divorced shortly after. Annette got custody of her daughter and was delighted to have Alan back.
“Never come to us begging for money again” were the last words she heard her parents tell her, and Annette was fine with that. She felt her life was complete, even without her parents’ approval or their money.
She moved abroad with her two wonderful children, got a good job, and only looks forward to living a happy life.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
What can we learn from this story?
- God answers our prayers. Whenever Alan went to church, he would cry and ask God to send his mother to him. One day, his prayers were answered when he heard a voice offering to take him, and it turned out to be his mother.
- Do not abandon your children and punish them for a mistake you have committed. When Annette fell pregnant at 16, her parents told her to abandon the baby. She obeyed them and moved on, unaware of how it would affect her son as he grew up.
A little girl cries in church, asking God to save her sick grandmother’s life. Suddenly, a voice speaks behind her, offering to help. Click here to read the full story.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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